


Exception

by PatchouliRolling



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatchouliRolling/pseuds/PatchouliRolling
Summary: IT feeds on fear.Except for yours.(Something I wrote during a panic attack to calm myself down.)





	Exception

Fear. 

Tasty, tasty fear. So delicious. So satisfying.

But... Not on her.

No.

On her it's bitter. It's cold. 

It makes It sick.

She lays at It's feet, shaking and shivering. Sweating, but so cold. It leans down and wraps It's arms around her, spooning her tiny frame with It's own. Silken gloves find their way to her clammy hands and hold them tight. The soft feel of It's costume against her skin calms her down just a bit. The air is filled with the lingering scent of lavender and sweet pea. Her favorite. She grips It's hands in appreciation, squeezing to let It know her approval. 

It brushes a strand of hair from her ear, leaning in to ask, "Did you take your medicine?"

She nods, struggling to take deep breaths. It hums, so proud of It's human for remembering to care for herself. Panic attacks weren't uncommon for her, so It knew how to hold her while she shook.

Time passes. The two lay together unmoving, Pennywise whispering soft words to her occasionally to let her know that It's here. A smile crosses her face, so grateful for It. Finally, her shaking dies down to quiet, intermediate tremors. The weight on her chest is lifted, finally allowing more air into her lungs. She is exhausted, now coming down and feeling like she had just run a marathon. Her limbs ache and her body goes limp. It rolls her over to assess the situation. 

"I think...I'm okay now." She croaks, running her fingers across It's jaw, resting to cup It's cheek in her palm. She yawns, so sweet and fragile. Pennywise rises to It's knees and lifts her, bridal style, up off the floor and carefully carries her to the bed. She rests her head against It's chest, a feeling of warmth and security washing over her. 

The bed creaks as her weight is laid upon it. She rolls and begins to remove her pants, with some help from Pennywise. It tosses them aside, pulling the sheets up and tentatively tucking her in. 

"Just how you like it, dear little pet." It coos, causing heat to rise to her face at the term of endearment. It crawls over her, boots now gone, and again wraps It's arms around her, burying It's red nose into her hair.

"Sleep now, my human. Ol' Pennywise will be right here when you wake."


End file.
